


Fade Into The Night

by Blackberreh



Series: We are more than our bodies [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Sort Of, Suicidal Thoughts, Tobirama lives, he's just kind of ready to die and isn't that happy about being saved tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackberreh/pseuds/Blackberreh
Summary: How unseemly,he thought distantly. A pair of sandalled feet stepped into his field of vision then, blurry even at such a close distance.Oh. I suppose they came back to finish the job. Smart of them.“To be brought down by a pair of fools.” A voice drawled. “You've grown so incredibly weak, haven't you Tobirama?”Ah. That voice didn't belong to his would be killers. It was a familiar voice, albeit one he hadn't heard in a long, long time. Close to a decade now, maybe.





	Fade Into The Night

**Author's Note:**

> So this might. Be a series. Ah;;;; this was fun to write :"D

                                                         

 

There were certain predictions that Tobirama had always been completely, utterly certain of.

It was always the most logical conclusion, of course. Like Hashirama’s emotions and ambitions would take him to great heights, and would inevitably lead him to ruin. That Madara was on his own path to ruin and would try to drag everyone down with him. That in the end, Hashirama’s friendship with Madara would break his heart. That the village they all tried so hard to build could become great, if Tobirama - the last one of them left - put in the effort. That his students would become brilliant shinobi, that they were going to survive this war, and were going to lead the new generation into a better time. The last two he had yet to see come true, but he knew in his heart of hearts that they would come to pass.

The last, final truth he knew was that he was going to die.

Breathing was becoming more and more difficult. Air rasped in his throat and ruined lungs, threatening to spasm with every intake. He knew the cold nothing he felt around one of his legs was most definitely an injury he would not be coming back from, the blow had severed muscle and broken bone, it was the blow that had ended up finally taking him down. The bleeding stab wounds in his gut and shoulder would have been easy fixes, but...

There were certainly no medic nins about. Not in enemy territory. He was bleeding out. He could try to heal himself, but he knew logically it was pointless - he was almost completely out of chakra. If the bleeding out didn’t kill him, then the chakra exhaustion would.

However way he looked at it, he knew was going to die. And truthfully, Tobirama welcomed it.

He was tired. So damned tired. There was nothing for him in this world anymore. His brother was long since dead, killed off near the beginning of this damnable war. He had no close family left, no more cousins, no wife or child to call his own. No one waiting for him to come back. Though sometimes he thought of his students as his own… they no longer needed him.

He’d taught them everything he could.

The village no longer needed him. Saru would make a fine Hokage.

A cough built in his chest, metallic liquid coating his throat and he clenched his eyes shut and tried not to choke on it. The movement pulled at the cut at the corner of his mouth, raw nerves being pulled apart as he hacked up the blood; he shifted his head to the side in an attempt to spit it out, and blood dripped sluggishly from his lips.

 _How unseemly_ , he thought distantly. A pair of sandalled feet stepped into his field of vision then, blurry even at such a close distance. _Oh. I suppose they came back to finish the job. Smart of them._

“To be brought down by a pair of fools.” A voice drawled. “You've grown so incredibly weak, haven't you Tobirama?”

Ah. That voice didn't belong to his would be killers. It was a familiar voice, albeit one he hadn't heard in a long, long time. Close to a decade now, maybe.

Belatedly, Tobirama turned his head again, though the effort cost him a great deal of his dwindling energy. His eyes followed the legs the pair of feet belonged to upwards, registered the familiar blur of red armour and the mass of dark hair. The man was too far away to see his face.

Though that didn't stop him from recognising this man. Even if he wasn't kneading chakra - _couldn't_ knead it right now - this man's presence was very much unforgettable.

 _It could be a henge,_ he thought distantly. _Or a genjutsu. I can't… really tell. Supposed to be dead..._

Tobirama closed his eyes. It was difficult to talk, but he somehow managed. “Come to… gloat in my final hour? Trust it to be… you and not my brother… suppose it's the least I deserve...”

The pain in his cheek was immense. Tobirama just ignored it. He didn't open his eyes again, the effort was too great. Who would have thought that dying like this would take so long.

There was a snort above him. “Oh yes. You deserve a great deal more than just me taunting you as you die.” There was a rustle in the grass by his head, and the man's voice was closer, more clear. “I should very much be the one to make the final blow. But like this… ending your suffering seems too much like a mercy. One you don't deserve.”

That pulled a weak chuckle from Tobirama, though it came out more as a cough. “Yes, no need to - t-to make my death any quicker. Though I do wish to… see my brother soon…”

He forced his eyes open, suddenly needing to _see_ the hallucination above him. Madara was almost properly visible to his eyes, Tobirama could make out the pale, lined face and the gleam of red in one eye. Tobirama met that gaze unflinchingly, because why should he fear something that wasn't real? When he was so close to death in the first place?

“Did you find Izuna?” He whispered hoarsely. His eyes fluttered closed again, because it really was too hard to keep them open, and in doing so, missed the way those bloody red eyes widened. “I hope you did. Never… did ‘pologise.”

There was a beat, and then Madara’s voice was chilling when he spoke, anger bleeding in through the edges. “Don’t you think it’s much too late to apologise for killing my brother?”

The snort that escaped Tobirama hurt, but he couldn’t help it. “O-of course it’s too late. Nothing can…. Nothing can make killing him any better. That’s when… that’s when things really started going bad. If… if only I’d listened to Hashirama earlier on. Our village would…”

It took great effort, but he opened his eyes again, meeting the ghost’s angry gaze. “There is a lot that I… regret. I have never been… as good as my brother. There are many things I look back on and th-… think that m-maybe, if I had just handled things differently, then things would… would be better. Izuna not f-falling on my blade. Peace… between our clans coming sooner. You n-not leaving the village.” A bitter smile curled the good side of Tobirama’s lips. He couldn’t make out Madara’s face anymore. “You would have… made a better Hokage than I.”

There was silence then. Tobirama could count the beats of his heart. Was it slowing? Probably.

A quiet curse broke his thoughts, and then suddenly there were hands placed on his chest, and a burning, foreign chakra was being forced into his system. Tobirama jerked, his nerves lighting up in something that was almost pain - and he registered belatedly that it was medical ninjutsu. He’d always been more sensitive to foreign chakras invading his body, being a sensor and all, it was more difficult to bare - it was why he was so good at detecting genjutsu. And this was - this was Madara’s - this was _his chakra_ , as familiar as Hashirama’s had been, very much there, very much-

 _Alive_.

A surge of emotions swept through Tobirama at that, fluttering by too fast for him to fully register. Amazement, that after everything he was still alive, because Hashirama was adamant that he had killed him. Anger, because why was _he_ alive when Hashirama wasn’t. More anger, because Madara had abandoned the village they had tried so hard to build. A vague sense of happiness because Hashirama would be so, so glad in his heart of hearts.

Tobirama’s hand flailed weakly, and grasped one of Madara’s wrists. He choked out, “What - what are you doing-”

He’d been so ready to die. So ready and _willing_. Madara had never been good at medical ninjutsu as far as he was aware, but even still he could heal damage where it counted - so Tobirama registered that once Madara was done, there was a very high chance that he would survive, and Tobirama didn’t - he didn’t -

“I haven’t gotten to see my brother yet.” Madara’s voice is an angry, spiteful hiss, his chakra jittering with rage and something else Tobirama couldn’t identify as it flowed through his body. “I’ll be damned if you get to see your brother before I get to see mine.”

There was a laugh. A dark, vengeful thing. “Besides, I imagine Hashirama would so hate for you to die like this. Let’s just call this… ‘doing an old friend a favour’, hm?”

Tobirama let out a broken noise of protest, but there was little more he could do. Even if he was healed, his life as a shinobi was over. Without his leg…

There was nothing for him to go back to. He’d always had a place in the world - first, to be his father’s son, do as he was bidden as the dutiful second heir. Second, to fight the Uchiha and every other clan who threatened his and his brother’s and the Senju’s existence. Then peace, building up the village from the ground and running things where his brother couldn’t. Then picking up the pieces in the aftermath of Madara’s betrayal. Then… stepping up to take the hat after his brother’s death.

Tobirama’s life had been a cold, empty thing in the wake of Hashirama’s death. His students had been his only light, but now they were no longer his students, and he had no place to go back to.

Tobirama didn’t _want_ that.

He tried to convey this to Madara, tried to tell him to just let him _die_ , to not bother, but then he realised that Madara likely knew that already. His leg was a lost cause. He would never return to active duty. How could he be Hokage if he could no longer even be a shinobi?

Of course Madara knew that. And he healed Tobirama anyway.

Tobirama could have laughed, but everything was fading. The blood loss and shock was finally getting to him, probably. Maybe his heart would stop before Madara finished healing him. One could hope.

Tobirama closed his eyes. He hoped for the final time. But with Madara there, his final truth, his certainty in death, was shaken.

“Y’should… Come back to the village…” He slurred. One final jab at Madara, for Hashirama, because why not? He was being healed against his will. And if the way Madara’s control stuttered a little and the faint sense of surprise flavoured his chakra was any indication, the words had gotten to him.

“Stupid Senju.” Were the last muttered words Tobirama heard before unconsciousness finally took him.

 

* * *

 

 

Tobirama woke to the smell of antiseptic filling his nose and with his body unable to move, and floating on a cloud of pain free confusion.

He couldn’t access his chakra. There was a block there - something preventing him from pulling on it, and he tried to ignore the spike of panic that stabbed him in the gut and opened his eyes.

The white ceiling of Konoha’s hospital greeted him, and Tobirama let out a breath. Things slot into place - reason making his panic calm. He couldn’t access his chakra because there was a dampening seal placed somewhere on his body to stop him from using it. In his depleted state, pulling on any more would likely make it worse, and the doctors of the hospital knew full well that he almost always used his sensor abilities. He liked to keep an eye on the village, it was his duty to. An instinctual reaction.

There was a sound to his left and, painstakingly, Tobirama managed to shift his head. There was a blur of pale skin and unruly black hair staring back at him and radiating palpable relief, and in seeing that Tobirama had his attention on him, Kagami gasped. “Sensei, you’re awake! Gods, I’m so glad, when you said you were going to be the diversion we knew that - that you weren’t going to come back but I still hoped! And then - then suddenly a patrol unit finds you outside Konoha and the doctors didn’t know you were going to survive and they had to amputate your leg I’m so sorry sensei-”

“Kagami.” Tobirama cut him off, his voice a hoarse croak. The movement of his mouth tugged at his cheek, the movement stiff. It must have been bandaged. “Did the others… make it back alright?”

“Ah?” Kagami blinked, befuddled, before understanding dawned. Drugged out as he was, Tobirama found it kind of funny to watch. Kagami was always a delight. “Oh! Yeah, we made it back fine! Saru was… just about to send a squad to, um… try and find you.”

To find his body huh.

Tobirama closed his eyes and let out a small breath of relief. That was good. They made it back…

“Sensei?”  
  
Tobirama hummed, not opening his eyes. He was simply enjoying the way his mind remained blank instead of running with constant thought. Whatever painkillers they had him on were certainly delightful - though vaguely he realised it would not last, that as soon as the haze passed he would have to think and remember and resent, so therefore he would take what blissed out silence he could.

“How - how did you make it back? Your leg…”  
  
Tobirama blinked an eye open, decided it was too much trouble, and closed it again. Right. Madara was… a thing that had happened. Found him and healed him just enough to keep him alive. And then apparently dumped him outside of Konoha. That was lovely of him.

“Dragged myself back.” He croaked instead. “Didn’t think I would make it.”

He didn’t know why he didn’t mention Madara. There was always a chance that he had hallucinated the entire encounter, and that he had simply dragged himself back. Damn Kinkaku squad - they should know to finish the job before leaving. They were supposed to be professional shinobi.

“Sensei?”

Tobirama hummed in acknowledgment. He felt himself drifting off again - and thought sleep certainly sounded good.

“I’m really glad you made it.”

He let out another hum. Right then, he wasn’t sure he agreed with the sentiment. He supposed it was good that he had closure, that his students made it back alright. As for himself… well, that was a problem for un-drugged Tobirama to think on.

His mind drifted off, and he slipped into a hazy dream of burning chakra and hypnotizing red eyes.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case I DON'T end up making it a series, please know Tobirama's gonna make a kick ass prosthetic and find a new purpose in tracking down Madara and kicking his ass. I hope you guys enjoyed!


End file.
